


Clark's Scar

by Sellie



Category: Smallville
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 12:06:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7683949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sellie/pseuds/Sellie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark reflects on the moment he nearly lost Chloe forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clark's Scar

Darkness of night flooded the loft, surrounded and covered it's two sated inhabitants like a weightless blanket. The evening warm with the remnants of an even warmer summer day, their bodies felt no need for further cover and so lay naked on his makeshift bed, a tangle of sheets at their feet.

All was at peace. All was at sleep. Except for Clark. 

Wide awake when the world around him slept, he watched over her, intense, almost solemn green eyes glittering black against the pitch as they sought out her naked form with comparative ease. The moon bathed her lush curves in silver, flushed skin glowing within it’s deceptively cool embrace. 

She lay on her side, facing him, arms thrown in front of her carelessly in sleep, and he followed the curve of her hip with gentle fingers that found their way down her thigh and back again. Every now and then, he’d trace higher, skating his fingertips across the silky swell at the tops of her breasts until she sighed softly in pleasure. 

Then his eyes would fall upon her mouth, called there by the tiny sigh as if it were a siren’s song, and he’d stare at the slightly red kiss swollen flesh until he thought he’d die if he didn’t kiss her right then and there. He fought the urge selflessly, in favour of letting her sleep until she was ready to wake, and instead distracted himself with the dusky sweep of her eyelashes against pale skin. There his eyes lay until he’d counted each and every one, secretly memorizing the number, storing it away with the memory of how they felt against his skin when she loved him with her mouth. 

Every night, it was the same. It had almost become ritualistic, the journey beginning and ending where his hand lay now, resting protectively over the scar that nearly took her from his life forever. He covers it, cups the dip of her waist with his large palm and feels the rough edges beneath his thumb, sees the silvery line stark against the natural skin tone of her belly despite the darkness, and lets it remind him. Remind him of how close he'd come to losing her. 

The memories still stain his vision in moments like these, a vivid scrapbook filled with images of Chloe lying unconscious in an alley, in a pool of her own blood, knife wound gaping and pulsing the very life from her body. 

A story lead had taken her to a bad part of the city in search of an interview that night. Not surprisingly, her journalistic panache ensured she got the interview, no matter the weary reluctance of her subject, but her success of that achievement quickly faded into the background when she exited the apartment building to find her car had been stolen in the process. 

Clark remembered being angry with her when she called to ask him to pick her up. He’d specifically asked her not to do it alone, to wait until he could go with her the following day. They ended up arguing heatedly about her recklessness and his over protectiveness and she’d almost hung up, threatening to call a cab instead. Clark let her know exactly what he thought of that idea before hanging up, giving her no room to retaliate. He knew she would wait, even if only so she could give him another verbal lashing. 

He’d already been in the process of closing down his computer and putting his files away so the minute the phone hit the cradle he was up, jacket in hand, car keys in the other, long legs carrying him towards the elevator at a quick pace. 

He blamed Lois for a while. They’d both been working late that night and she managed to catch him while he was waiting for the elevator, intent on pestering him into arranging another interview with Superman for her. But it wasn’t her fault. If he hadn’t been so intent on trying to maintain the role of a star struck clumsy country boy turned city slicker by stumbling over his response in typical Clark Kent style, or even if he’d used his super speed to run to Chloe instead of driving to keep up appearances, he might have made it on time. But he hadn’t done any of those things. 

The time between their phone call and his arrival had given the reprobate watching Chloe from the shadows of the alley between the apartment buildings enough time to build up the courage to grab her and pull her into the alley with him, eyes only for the purse and expensive laptop computer she had slung over one shoulder. She fought him of course, and soon Clark sees his own hands covered in the thick red fluid as he tries to staunch the bleeding, feels the phantom burn of his thigh muscles as he uses his speed to run her to the hospital. He’d almost been too late. 

Clark squeezed his eyes shut, his hand squeezing reflexively at the memory and he instantly worried he’d pressed too hard when he saw the glitter of Chloe’s eyes as they opened slowly, but a sleepy smile was quick to follow, putting his mind at rest and his jaw unclenched in response. 

“Hey,” she said softly, reaching up to run her fingers through his thick dark hair, “what are you thinking about?” Chloe’s smile faded and her brow crinkled slightly when the tendrils of sleep loosened their grip enough to allow her to notice how solemn Clark looked, worried almost. 

Clark leaned over and kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips. His attempt at distraction from his own dark thoughts proved successful when Chloe fell onto her back with a soft giggle and Clark grinned against her mouth. “How beautiful you are,” he whispered. 

“And fat,” Chloe added.

Clark gave her a teasingly reproachful look. “You’re not fat, you’re pregnant, and you’ve never looked more beautiful.” He was still so disbelieving of how blind he had been to her when they were younger, when now, she was all he could see. 

“I’m already naked, you know that right?”

“Ha ha,” Clark deadpanned. “Since when have I ever had to use flattery to get you naked?” Clark’s hand slid lovingly over her rounded stomach, into the still damp curls between her thighs. He parted the delicate outer folds and teased her clit. 

Chloe arched against him like a cat, her lip caught between perfect little white teeth. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down to her. “I was yours the very moment you walked into my life, Clark,” she said softly. “You just didn’t know it.”

No, he hadn’t, Clark thought, brushing the hair from her eyes. But he did now, and he would never, ever, take something so precious for granted again.


End file.
